


Wasteland, Baby!

by robotleech



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Blood and Injury, Flux (Yogscast), Fluxed Alex Parvis, Fluxed William Strife, Hat Films Mentioned, Injury Recovery, Lalna mentioned, Lomadia mentioned, M/M, NanoSounds Mentioned, Nilesy mentioned, Not RPF, Post Blood and Chaos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29269008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotleech/pseuds/robotleech
Summary: “Well, for starters they have responsibilities to uphold in their respective kingdoms, and second of all, I’m not even sure who the antagonist is here - the very basis of responsibility itself? Some sort of trauma subplot between the main characters and their families?” Strife dragged his nail across the remainder of the pages in the book, which was likely a little under a hundred.“And you’re still reading it?” Martyn laughed.“Well, it’s a damn good thing to fantasize about, I guess. Running off into the woods and not dealing with stress anymore. It’s almost admirable; if it wasn’t so foolish.”“Isn’t that what you two did, Strife?”-The explosion at Parv's castle decommissions the duo. In an attempt to save a dying Parvis' life, Strife carries the man to the front doorstep of Martyn and Toby's cabin.
Relationships: Alex Parvis/William Strife
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

There was whiteness, then darkness, then a deafening ringing noise. It all seemed like merely seconds had passed as the explosion went off and sent Will Strife downwards into a horrible gas-filled pit. Light poured into the room, showcasing the even more massive hole directly through the ceiling of the castle. Strife was barely conscious and could already start to feel a broken rib or two, but the pain seemed distant and nearly unidentifiable. His head was swarming with an unshakable brain fog that rendered any thought practically useless. He patted himself down, discovering deep gashes and terrible bloody wounds, but determined it was nothing Strife couldn’t deal with for now.

After his brief check in with himself that he was still fairly alive, Strife’s panic began to set in. He was unable to see where Parvis had been tossed in the explosion, assuming the guitarist had not been vaporized instantaneously. Strife propped himself up to stand on shaky, bruising legs. His lungs filled with smoke and flux gas, and as he coughed out the horrible toxins, he climbed out of the crater Parvis had created. The task wasn’t easy considering his broken bones were making themselves very apparent, but the adrenaline kept Strife moving.

Exiting the crater, Strife spotted an almost entirely red pile. There was a pool of blood and a tangled bunch of limbs in the corner that Strife quickly identified as Alex Parvis. Strife scrambled towards him, cursing and pleading with whatever gods allowed such a terrifying event to occur. The blonde prepared for the worst when he turned Parv’s bleeding body over, but the gentle upheaval of Parvis’ chest identified him as alive. However, it was clear Will needed to act fast; blood loss would probably kill Parv soon enough.

With haste, Strife left to locate a jetpack - preferably one not demolished by the explosion. Fortunately, luck came through for him, and Strife slipped on the orange machine left behind by a past Parv and approached the near-corpse. Will barely thought about the blood getting on his clothes; he leaned down to pick up Parvis bridal-style and carried him out through the gaping hole in the ceiling. Despite the height of Parv, the man was otherwise a twig in stature and wasn’t too much of a hassle to carry, but the ribs made themselves quite prevalent as Strife carried the darker haired man into the smoke-filling sky. 

Strife gripped onto the bloody body as much as he possibly could given how weak he was himself. Dropping Parvis would just be the icing on the cake in this dreadful series of events that had led them here. Although Strife had escaped the castle, he wasn’t sure where to even go. Strife Solutions was way too far away to make the trip in either of their conditions. Somewhere out in the water was Lomadia and Nilesy’s base, but Will’s head was too foggy still to even consider navigating that right now. Instead, he hovered to the shoreline and in the direction of Parv’s much older base. Eventually Strife passed that base, which was a crumbling mess of ruins, recalling another of Parv’s further back. 

Thankful he had kept going, Will spotted a cabin in the woods with clear signs of life. His memory was still recovering from the explosion, but he vaguely remembered Parv lived with someone previously. He descended onto the property with a lack of grace, and his borderline crash landing served helpful enough to gain the attention of the cabin’s inhabitants. 

Strife’s bones ached. He was exhausted. The blonde toppled forwards into the grass beside an unconscious Parvis. At the sight of the figures rushing toward them, Strife blacked out.


	2. Chapter 2

When Will Strife came to, he was laying on a bed in a small one room house. He felt dizzy and sick to his stomach and in so much physical pain. He looked down at himself, and his suit was stripped off his body leaving him in just undergarments. There were bandages where wounds were and very nasty bruising in places Strife broke during the catastrophe. 

He processed more of the room. The bed he was in was fairly large, and although Strife was resting on the side away from the wall, he saw that someone was in fact laying next to him. He assumed the intensely wrapped body beside him was Parvis. The taller man looked like a mummy at this point, covered in wrappings that obscured his probably raw skin from view. Little was left uncovered. It was clear that the explosion did Parv the worst. 

Will carefully climbed out of bed, wincing every inch as he did so. He was still trying to remember who it was that lived here, as now he had a debt to pay to some folks he could barely recall. Though, almost on cue, a brown haired man stepped into the cabin and gasped, quickly leaving. Strife thought the act was odd, and he didn’t have enough time to get a good look at who it was. Will was pretty sure he had not seen the boy before now, though. 

After a minute, the man returned with another. The other man was thinner than the first and cream blonde. Strife looked at the two of them with curiosity, and before he got a chance to open his mouth, the blonde spoke, “Strife, right? Will Strife?”

Will went to turn his body to face them better, but he held his chest and winced. It was clear such maneuvers would be difficult for awhile. “Yeah, who do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m Martyn,” the blonde gestured to himself. _Ah, so that’s who Parv was with. Right._ Information was slowly coming back to Strife, and he was thankful for it. He liked to know what was going on, even if he didn’t like what it was. “This is Toby,” Martyn gestured to the fellow in the black hoodie, who gave a prideful wave.

Strife absently patted the top of his head for his sunglasses. They could be with the rest of his things, but in retrospect were likely lost in the explosion. “Where’s all my stuff?”

“Uh,” Martyn gave Toby a look, who shrugged. “Well, for the most part everything was generally unsalvageable. We were going to patch it up - your clothes - but there were so many rips and-“

“And the jetpack you came down on was broken when we took it off you! Must’a broke when you landed,” Toby added, nodding vigorously. Martyn agreed, mentioning that he almost forgot about the jetpack.

They were horrible liars, whatever it is they needed to lie about. Regardless, it was the least of Will’s worries this second. Strife groaned and glanced back at Parv once more. “Is he gonna be alright?”

Martyn hesitated, once again looking at Toby for some sort of agreed response. The interaction made Strife deathly nervous, and he instantly felt a pit in his stomach grow. “Is he fine? Is he going to be fine?” 

“Don’t panic,” Toby coaxed.

“I’m going to panic if I don’t get an answer.”

“We don’t know,” Martyn shrugged, giving a sympathetic look. “We have no idea. I-I hope he’s alright, I mean he’s one of my best friends, but we did all we can for him. I’m no doctor, neither is Toby.”

“Speak for yourself, I think I’m great at identifying a corpse,” Toby announced with a sense of pride, then shrunk down when Martyn tugged the hood of his hoodie back as a way to tell him to shut up. 

“God-fucking-dammit,” Strife hissed, hanging his head forwards and placing a cold palm on his forehead. He knew he should thank the duo for their hospitality, for willingly taking in Parvis and Strife and using their supplies to stabilize the two, but he didn’t. Will Strife didn’t like being at the mercy of others. He liked people being at the mercy of him. Needing his help. At least that’s what he liked to tell himself and others. He justified moments like these, moments like all exchanges between Parv and him, as just a mere extension of his company. He offered help. Solutions. It was clear there were ulterior motives to his long association with Parvis. Even Parv knew that Strife liked to be around the blood mage - Strife valued that willing, cheerful company. Will denied this, for he would never admit that coming around so often was not just to show off and remind Parv of how weak he was. Besides, at the end of it all, Strife carried Parvis’ dying body across the waters and lands to dump themselves off on some strangers’ front lawn.

Another downfall to receiving help from people was that you now owed them a debt. Sometimes Strife exchanged favors with people as payment rather than actual currency. He had done this with Lomadia and Nilesy once: they help him slay a horrible beast for its trophy and he gets the Magic Police off their backs. Initially, even Strife’s dealings with Parvis were debt related; Will owed Xephos a favor from dealings back in college. Apprenticing Parv was now Strife’s business to repay Xephos. 

Though, sometimes Strife extended generosity. That generosity made him feel good, but he regularly insisted it was merely to make his company keep up a well-rounded appearance. Usually, these gifts were weapons. Protection. He knew war was common, fools were fools, and demigods could be less than helpful. 

In the silence of the room, Martyn suggested he could get Strife something to eat. The injured man knew he should put something into his body, but with Parvis incapacitated, he had no appetite. With great effort, Strife lied down once more.

“Not hungry.”


	3. Chapter 3

Although Parvis was generally stable, it had taken him days to finally stir. In the meantime, Will was familiarizing himself with his new bunkmates. Getting back to Strife Solutions was going to be tricky without transportation, and in his condition, it would be a near impossible trek. Until he was healed, he settled on staying. Strife slept in the cabin bed beside Parv, while Martyn and Toby slept in sleeping bags under the stars. He felt terribly awkward about taking room in their house, but the duo insisted it was fine.

“So, aren’t you famous or something?” Toby questioned once, sitting outside in the grass. The three were gathered there - Toby, Martyn, and Strife. Strife stood around awkwardly most of the time as the other two bantered.

“Famous?” Strife sputtered, amused by the comment. “Well, if you call running a successful corporation being famous then, well, guilty as charged.”

Martyn nodded, “Yeah, Parvis mentioned you had a business.”

“What’s the corporation?” Toby tilted his head at Strife, who seemed offended by the question.

“You’re telling me you’ve never heard of Strife Solutions before?” Will looked between the duo, who shook their heads. The man gasped in exaggerated awe as the pitch for his business unfolded before him. “You have the problem, we have the solution. At Strife Solutions, we pride ourselves on working to find the right solutions for your issue.”

Toby shook his head, “Uh, that doesn’t seem like a good business model.”

“Too broad, or whatever. Not niche enough,” Martyn agreed, giving Toby a nod. They worked like a machine, these two, when they weren’t bickering nonsensically.

Offended, Will crossed his arms and scowled. “And what do either of you know about running a business?”

“Well, we had a company, once,” Toby explained, which gained a scoff of disbelief from Strife. “Really! Fell apart ‘cause it was just too broad.”

“Shame though, we wanted to be one of those big shot Honeydew Inc. sorts. CEOs, you know?” Martyn scratched the side of his face absently. Neither of them were capitalist material, Strife noted. They were just hippies in the woods with implausible dreams. The biggest companies around here at least had some sort of brain behind them. People who went to school, college. People like Will Strife. Martyn and Toby? Fools who just didn’t understand much of anything. 

Strife stifled a laugh; he knew that it wasn’t wise to make fun of the people who gave him food, shelter, and clothes. Then the guilt settled in. He really shouldn’t be making fun of them when they were kind enough to let him, a borderline total stranger, hang around. “Maybe someday, yeah?”

“Don’t think so. Tough work, that. I can admire those of you who do get into it,” Martyn clasped his hands together with a sincere grin. “Royalty, me. No need for dirty work. That’s all Toby’s job.”

“Shut up! You’re nothing special.”

Royalty? Strife bit his tongue. In no way was the man serious, right? If he was royalty, he wouldn’t be living in some shack in the woods. There’d be a castle. Some fairy tale gobbledygook. Something made Will not want to explore the idea of Martyn being royalty. 

“Anyway,” Martyn stressed each syllable as he spoke. He looked up at Strife - the man was standing while Toby and Martyn sat. “I must ask, it’s been on my mind...what happened? The day you both came?”

Will Strife pondered this. What did happen? He recalled the events in his head: Parvis officially lost his mind. It was bound to happen. Strife warned him, but Parv let the blood magic get the better of him. That laughter was sickening. It churned Strife’s stomach, watching his friend turn into a beast almost instantly. That wicked, toothy smile. There was nothing of Parv left in those eyes. Then they were in the castle, Parvis was holding the Thaumonomicon in his hands. Strife once told him how Thaumaturgy’s energy worked, how it was dangerous and involved the production of flux taint. Parv took the very essence of two unstable magics - the blood altar and the Thaumonomicon - and he combined them. The explosion was almost instant. There was nothing Will could do, but he knew it was his fault. He didn’t stop Parvis. He let it all happen.

Strife didn’t notice he was hyperventilating or shaking. 

He also didn’t notice he had spaced out for long enough that the other two could carefully approach him, trying to tell him it was no big deal. They were trying to get him to sit down, and Will let himself be sat down. He didn’t catch what they were saying. He was too busy dealing with the feeling that he was drowning somehow.


	4. Chapter 4

The day Parv woke up, he was up for only a few minutes. Strife was out of the cabin with Toby while Martyn had a few things to tend to within. Occasionally they heard him grunt or groan, which was a nice sign he was still alive in there. Strife once joked that comatose Parvis was way easier to deal with. It was funny for a moment, but even Strife felt upset afterwards.

Martyn was cleaning out charcoal dust from the oven interior, holding his breath as he did so. Parv groaned and Martyn gave no mind to it first, but then he heard the darker haired man stir in bed. The sapling prince stopped what he was doing immediately and rushed to the side of the bed, just in time to catch Parvis’ opening eyelids and confused expression.

“Did we win?”

“Parvis!” Martyn lurched forward, touching a bit of exposed arm flesh that wasn’t bandaged and raw. “Thank the gods you’re alright!”

“Wha...?” Parv cocked his head to look out through the window. “Where...?”

“My house! Our house, the cabin? You crashed here, you stupid idiot,” he said this endearingly, “don’t you remember? Martyn’s house?”

Parvis turned back toward Martyn, who was waiting expectantly for some response. Parv pondered this, clearly putting thought into it. “Hm,” he drawled, slowly blinking. “Warm.” He was out again, gone like that. Martyn was upset he couldn’t do more, but he immediately rushed to find the others.

Strife, Martyn, and Toby headed in, Strife leading with the other two in tow. Strife was panicked, upset he missed Parv’s moment of consciousness. He leaned over the dark haired man, watching his features carefully for signs of waking up. Besides a slight change in expression from the last time Strife stood over him, Parvis was clearly out cold. Martyn gave Strife’s shoulder a small pat. “Sorry you missed it, Will.”

“What did he say?” 

“Warm?” Martyn glanced at Strife’s face for a moment. Toby looked at Martyn with a raised eyebrow, and Martyn exchanged the look with a shrug. “What? It’s what he said.”

Strife gave a low chuckle. “Stupid idiot, you fumbling moron.” There was a hint of a grin on his face, but it vanished as he gritted his teeth slightly and closed his eyes. 

It was Martyn’s turn to give Toby a look, then he returned his attention to Strife. “We can leave you here if you want, Will. If you want to stay with him for a bit. No worries.”

Strife nodded, and the two escaped the cabin hastily, leaving the blonde beside the unconscious mage. Strife knelt down beside Parvis, exhaling in pain as he did so. He carefully caressed an undressed cheek, then muttered a swear under his breath. He was glad Parvis wasn’t completely comatose, and there was some semblance of life within him, but it was still tricky. Despite the jokes, Will missed Parv immensely. His stupid plans, his bickering - he wanted the days to speed up so he could get to a point where Parv was at the very least speaking and aware of his surroundings. But that would be a while, Strife accepted, and he brushed a little section of messy hair from Parv’s forehead.

He would wait.


	5. Chapter 5

Parvis spent days in and out of consciousness. Often Will missed these moments, so at some point, he refused to leave the cabin until he could see Parv stir. Parv’s moments were only ever a few words, nothing of real substance. Toby managed to get him to drink a little water, though.

As far as the rest of the world was concerned, Will Strife and Alex Parvis were dead. Or missing, at the very least. Strife did not report to Strife Solutions, where he often was found if he wasn’t bumbling around Parvis’ castle. And if anyone visited Parv’s castle...well.

It was clear something happened.

Martyn and Toby explored the castle one day by themselves but dared not to go too close. The castle was still occasionally crumbling from its unstable structure, and there was a horrible purple slickness starting to crawl across the bricks of the building. It was a horrible sight, and Toby made a comment that he was surprised they lived. Martyn agreed, and they headed back to the cabin. They did not mention their visit to Strife, whose boredom was growing by the day, in fear of triggering some sort of panic attack. 

Eventually, Parvis moved in bed beside Strife, who was reading some book Martyn gave him that he mentioned he stole - it was no wonder Parv got along with him. Strife looked over, not expecting to see the other man’s eyes open. “Parvis?” he called, immediately putting the book down.

Parv hummed softly in response, reaching up to rub his eyes, which he had not done before. It was apparent he was improving by the day. Strife’s heart lurched at this with a blessed joy, and he watched with eager eyes. “Parv? Hey there, it’s Strife. Can you hear me?”

“Mmmmm, yeah...” Parv mumbled, still rubbing his eyes. Then he pulled his hands away and studied his bandaged hands and forearms through half-lidded eyes. 

“It- It was the,” Strife paused, not sure if he was able to really explain right now. It made his brain and body react in a way he didn’t really feel much these days. “You’re alive. We’re alive, Parvis.”

“We are...aren’t we?” Parv closed his eyes again, resting his head against the pillow. Strife gave a sigh. He wished Parv could stay for longer increments, and he stared at the other man with sadness. “Quit looking at me,” Parv’s voice sounded again, dull as before and clearly his.

Strife made an awed noise, leaning over the darker haired man to investigate further. “Parvis? I thought you were going back, you know, to sleep.”

“No...? ‘S midday, Strife,” Parv mumbled, snuggling closer. “Why’re you in my bed anyway?”

Will blushed, then put on his familiar irritated façade. “Because- Because you’ve been knocked out for weeks! And this isn’t even your bed, this is Martyn and Toby’s!” His voice softened as he continued, “You remember them, right?”

“Weeks...?” he rumbled, letting out a heavy, tired sigh.

“Yes, you utter moron!” Strife raised his voice once more, shaking Parvis slightly with his hand as the man audibly protested. “You- You- You idiot! Is there any sense in that head of yours, Parvis?”

Parv whined at being shaken, swatting the hand away with a tired motion. “Wha...’d the hell I do?” 

Strife sighed, sitting back. “You probably don’t remember then, huh?” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t going to relay it to Parv. “Christ. It doesn’t matter. Parvis,” he paused, leaning over the other man once more, “I missed you. Fuck, I missed you.”

“I’d miss me too,” Parv giggled weakly. He gave Strife a particular look, something unreadable to Will. Maybe it was confusion? Maybe pensiveness, and Parv was studying him?

“I thought you were dead. Dying, later. You have no idea what’s happened.” Strife glanced away to avoid the expression while Parv shook his head. “We should get food in you, while you’re awake.”

Strife shuffled out of bed, making a clumsy movement that made him gasp in pain. Parv made a small “whoa” sound as Strife grabbed at his chest for a moment. The man stood, brushing off his mistake with a face of red embarrassment. He hurried to find Martyn or even Toby, but it took him a little while and left him worried thinking he would somehow miss Parv again. Nevertheless, he found the duo by the water, fishing, and they hurried back with him. Toby offered Strife a piggy-back to the cabin, but Will profusely denied the offer - though he would have appreciated it.

“Parv?” Martyn came in first, and the aforementioned man gave a little grunt in response. It was clear he was tired now, likely already exhausted from the most amount of activity he’s done in weeks. Martyn gave a pleased sigh. “It’s been so long, we were so worried... Glad to have you back, Parvy.”

Martyn and Toby worked to find some light food in the cabin. There was a tin of crackers in one of the cabinets, and Martyn presented the crackers to Parv. The man gave the food an uncomfortable stare, then took a cracker and nibbled on it. Strife stood by, watching with crossed arms and owl eyes. After a few moments of Parv’s cracker gnawing, Will managed to notice the change in Parv’s expression; it was clear he was going to throw up. Strife could barely get a word in before Parvis spat up the crackers onto the bed, groaning afterward while uncomfortably smacking his lips. 

“That was gross,” Parv muttered with a wrinkled nose.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the fun part :]

They tried to get Parv to eat a few more times, and the fourth time was finally successful. He managed to hold down some sort of awful soup that Martyn insisted would get nutrients in him - much to the verbal disgust of Toby and the grossed expression of Will. Nevertheless, Parvis held it down, and the other three celebrated the success with a small bonfire.

It had been three weeks and some odd days since Parv and Strife crashed on Martyn and Toby’s property. In those three weeks, Strife had honestly warmed up to the duo. They were remarkably harmless and had little in the way of actual critical thought. He would never admit his partialness, of course, but it was much easier to be less defensive around them. The dynamic between Will and them was much like how it was with Parv; it made complete sense how Martyn and Parv got along so well when they were so very similar. 

Martyn and Toby were open books. Eventually, they admitted that they had to throw out a lot of Strife’s belongings, but they scrapped the jetpack for parts. “It was on its last leg anyway,” Toby justified, twiddling the strings on his hoodie. “We were just going to use it for a bit but...it didn’t last very long.”

Usually, Strife would be mad. Jetpacks weren’t difficult to make nor did they cost a whole lot - to him, at least - but he was usually particular. He shrugged; it didn’t matter to him anymore. “Plenty more exist. I’m not worried.” 

It was occasions like these where they noticed Strife letting down his walls, his persona. He just let things slide. He wasn’t sure why he was doing it himself - perhaps it was because out here, Martyn and Toby barely knew Strife. He could start over with someone without any big name attached. It was freeing to be able to do something else - be someone else - finally. 

Later that day, Strife headed to the water to bathe. He had to be sure to alert the other two what he was up to so they didn’t just mindlessly walk in on him, even though warning them barely made it into their skulls regardless. He stood by the water, removed his shirt, and noticed a faint trace of unnatural coloration around where he already had a preexisting bruise from the explosion. It was slightly off-purple, a magenta, which worried him slightly. He was no medical professional and therefore unable to give himself a proper suggestion as to what it was. He planned to ask Martyn and Toby later as he stripped out of the rest of his clothes. 

Almost instantly upon hitting the water, a weird feeling rushed over him. And then he found himself standing on some sort of ruin, unrecognizable, staring into this black abyss ahead of him. The river was nowhere in sight. He couldn’t open his mouth to call for any of his friends. It seemed like it had a mind of its own, for it wrinkled into a smile without his command. 

That was the first time he heard it. “Oh, my dearest son,” came a horrible amalgamation of voices. It was androgynous, but in the echoes, he could almost make out Nano’s voice - further listening made him hear his own. “How delighted I am to finally have you meet me...though I already know all there is to know about you.”

Strife couldn’t open his mouth to respond. He stared into the abyss, squinting his eyes to try and make out any shapes. Nothing came to him but the echo of voices, graveled and giggling. “I should introduce myself. I am Mother. I must ask, don’t you safer being here with me, rather than out there in that abominable world?” 

He had noticed he wasn’t panicking. Things did feel content here, calming. It was like he was being embraced by a maternal figure and soothed into a slumber. So he nodded; he did not feel compelled to lie to the being. In return, Mother seemed to smile. He didn’t see it, but he felt it. He felt it in his chest where his weird splotches of purple resided. 

“I didn’t have to call to you,” the being acknowledged. “You came right to me. Easier than others have been, I assure you. But the work is rewarding. My children of the flux.”

Flux. Like Nano, like Lalna. That purple shit.

“Yes, I did not need to entice you. You opened the gates wide with welcoming arms.”

The book, the magic, the explosion. The recollection of events did not startle him here. 

“But our time here is short, for now,” Mother hummed softly, almost agreeing with herself. “I’ll settle you to bed with a song, my son:

_Twinkle twinkle little star,_  
How I wonder what you are,  
Up above the world so high... 

Strife sputtered as a thick slap hit his cheek. He was no longer staring into a thick, black abyss, but rather directly into the face of Toby, who was leaned over him. The man did not have his signature hoodie on, and instead, Strife found it covering his lower abdomen. Furthermore, he found himself lying at the bank of the river, surrounded by a pool of water with the sour taste of bile in his mouth. 

“Thank god, you snapped out of it,” Toby sat back on his heels with a sigh. “Did you pass out? You nearly drowned in there!”

Strife had some respect now for Toby’s inability to follow basic instructions. How did he just blackout like that? Will gave a lazy glance to the river and then rubbed his head. “What was that?”

“I don’t know, you were the one singing like a creepy sonuvabitch!” 

“Singing?” Strife paused. He could somewhat recall what the being said to him in that weird abyssal plane, but it was blurry in his memory. He remembered some sort of lullaby, but it was fuzzy in his brain and long gone from his tongue. 

“Yes, singing,” Toby tilted his head and eyed Strife with curiosity. “You were singing. Were you- are you okay?”

Strife groaned, sitting up and wincing as he moved his chest incorrectly. Toby quickly moved to help him sit up, then hovered there for a moment as he witnessed the blonde cough uncomfortably. Toby sat back again and fiddled with his fingers. “I also covered you up with my hoodie, I know you’re a little bit, you know,” he gestured with his hand and Strife gave him a look, “embarrassable, or whatever.”

“Gee, thanks for resuscitating me and then insulting me,” Strife rolled his eyes.

Toby grinned. “I hit you too.”

“I can feel it, yeah.”

“Seriously though, what was that about?” Toby stood to look for Strife’s actual clothes, finding them folded on a dry patch on the bank. He returned to Will with them, who gladly took them and started getting loosely dressed.

Strife shrugged. “You think I know? Fuck- what did she say? What did she say? I-I can’t remember.”

“She?”

“It’s the, the-“ Strife patted his chest lightly where the unnatural coloring was. Toby looked at the skin curiously, then pulled away as Will started buttoning up his shirt. 

“Your bruises,” Toby stated, no hint of question in his voice.

“No, you imbecile-“

“You were the one singing when I dragged you out of the water, so let's watch it, William,” Toby smirked and sat crisscrossed, head gently resting on his fists. 

“It was this...this voice. She was telling me something, I can’t remember. God,” he paused, throwing his head back slightly in exasperation. “That fucking gas. Fucking shit, if I become like Nano...”

“Who now?”

“You don’t know Nano?” Strife seemed taken aback by this. “Uh, Lalna’s friend? Short, angry- purple, mostly.” 

Toby shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Jesus, you two are absolute hermits.”

Toby let out a little laugh and stood. He offered a hand to help Strife up, who took it. The blonde handed Toby’s hoodie back, and Toby waved his hands in front of him to deny the black fabric. “After it’s been covering your dick? No way,” Toby made a face while Strife huffed in annoyance, ears heating up in embarrassment. “Give it to Martyn, let him wash it. He doesn’t have to know.”

Bathing was much of a bust. Walking back to the cabin filled Strife with an immense sense of dread that was nearly identical to the one he felt when Parvis lost his mind before the explosion. Will Strife was infected with something that was, as far as he was aware, incurable. He was all too aware that for nearly as long as he had known Nano and Lalna, they were infected with flux. Now the curse had been bestowed upon Strife, and once again, he felt beyond hopeless.


	7. Chapter 7

The flux spread daily, but it was slow. Almost too slow to even see, like how the movement of the sun was so slow you would have to mark the points it moved between to show its movement. But one day, Martyn remarked about how Strife must’ve been cold, his top lip was slightly purple. It was then that Strife’s worst fears were realized, and he was not just imagining things anymore. This had become real.

“Parv,” Strife breathed quietly as he entered the cabin where Parvis rested. The man was awake, eating a bowl of more appetizing soup than whatever gunk Martyn fed him once. “Parvis. We have to talk.”

Parv looked up at Strife, tilting his head and frowning. “Talk about what?” 

“What happened. It fucked up everything, Parvis.”

Parv squinted his eyes at Strife. Will wasn’t all too sure the other man remembered the fight yet, or the explosion. Parv only ever talked about what he always talked about: nothing disguised as something. It’s what he was good at. Being with Martyn and Toby was no exception; in their presence, he blabbered about his little schemes and what he and Will talked about once. In Strife’s, it was truly nothing of substance - almost as if Parv felt uncomfortable talking to Strife since he initially woke for good. 

Parv drummed his fingers on the side of the bowl and glanced out the window, watching Martyn pile up firewood. “What’s there to talk about, Will?”

Strife felt confused by that response. Was that he had no clue what they were discussing, or a suggestion that Parv knew about the events that unfolded at the castle? Will tried to lean more on the latter as a crutch. “The castle, Parvis, it- what you did-“ he couldn’t find the right words to express the issue at hand. “Do you remember what happened?”

Parv kept his eyes on Martyn outside, not daring to look at Strife once.

“You lost your goddamn mind out there, Parv. That fucking- that blood magic. I told you not to do it, didn’t I? Now look where we are- some, some weird little hermit’s cabin in the middle of the woods! You blew up the whole thing- don’t you have any idea what,” he took a deep breath, feeling himself shaking, “what that did?”

Parv looked down at the windowsill, no longer at the events outside. Strife worked his shirt off, unbuttoning it and pointing at the discolored skin. “That’s not a bruise, Parv. That’s flux. Do you remember Nano and Lalna? You know how they’re all purple and goopy? That’s what this is. I’m- I’m infected now, goddammit, I fucking talked to some voice at the river- I’m going to go fucking insane, Parv!”

Then Parvis turned his head the other way, his left cheek presented to Strife. He pointed a finger at a discolored patch of purple; something that clearly wasn’t a bruise. Strife stopped completely, shutting his angry mouth and standing up straight. “I’m infected, too,” was all Parvis said, and it was quiet, very unlike Parv. Ashamed, even. It was the mark of what he had done. Parvis met Strife’s eyes finally, and held his gaze. “I don’t know why I did it, Will,” Parv placed a hand on his purply cheek. “But I know what I did. You were right. I know this now. But there’s nothing I can do to change it.”

“There isn’t,” Strife agreed solemnly. He leaned against the wall, and the two of them pooled in the silence - with the exception of chopping noises from outside.

Parv spoke finally, “You aren’t going to leave me, right?”

“What? Why would I-“

“I’m unstable, I think. I get out of control. And...I dunno, you’re a man who likes things he can control- you know, that aren’t too wild,” Parv looked pained while he explained this, and Strife felt his stomach sink. “I know you like your factories and your business models and your science and machines. I’m not that, Strife. There’s no blueprint for me. I know this.”

Will took a deep breath, momentarily looking at the ground to search for the right words. “I know this, too,” Strife agreed, pushing off the wall and heading for the bed, where he sat down on its edge. “You weren’t crazy all of the time- that was just that one isolated time where it had gotten out of hand. That was my fault. I should’ve stopped it all before the inevitable happened, and I... Parv, I know you. You think I stuck around all the time because I didn’t understand you? I get wanting something exciting. I wasn’t always so boring,” Strife laughed, combing his fingers through his short blonde hair, “I liked being around you because you’re you. I _like_ being around you.”

“Oh, stop,” Parv smiles and shoves the other man playfully; they exchange that pleasant smile for a moment, then Parv frowns. “What do we do now?”

Strife looked down at his infected chest. The swirls were almost mesmerizing. From a pleasant perspective, one could find the patterns were perhaps the fine craftsmanship of a thaumaturge; an almost twinkling magenta that seeped from the skin like horrible little pustules. In the branches of purple were the remanence of pale, fleshy skin. Someday, that skin would disappear among the flux. It felt almost sad, like a mourning feeling of grief, to think about the loss of skin over time. He would vanish under a sea of magenta swirls. 

He picked up his head and tilted it slightly, staring blankly at the wall across from them. “We...” Will paused, giving another glance to his infection before buttoning up his shirt again. “We’re going to make the best of what we have left.”


	8. Chapter 8

It had been a week since that interaction. Parv got outside once more, bonding with Toby who he hadn’t met much of prior to their crash. He found they had a lot in common, so it was easy to keep a conversation going for hours.

Strife, on the other hand, kept the morning peaceful and relaxing. He rested among the dew in the grass, sleeves rolled up loosely as he poured his focus into Martyn’s book he was lent. He swirled a tin of coffee in his hand and simply relaxed. He never relaxed; he was never calm, always teetering with this anxiety of need to keep gears moving. For once, Strife absolutely relished the pleasure of simple existence. Truly a remarkable feeling and one he could get used to.

Martyn found his quiet spot in the grass. He gladly rested beside the other blonde, his arms crossed as he looked out toward the fields and trees with a content grin on his lips. Strife paid no mind, merely flipped the page with a delicate finger. Martyn gave him a glance, then readjusted his crossed arms. “Did I ever mention we saw the castle?” That paused Strife, his eyes hovering over the word he stopped at. Martyn gave another look to the businessman, then continued, “The damage is immense. No way you guys can go living back there.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” was all Strife mumbled - it felt like something locked up his words and tightened his throat when the mention of the explosion or the surrounding events occurred.

“Good,” Martyn nodded, letting his gaze fall to the grass. “That book good? I see you pick it up every so often and, you know, maybe I’ll see what the fuss is about afterwards.”

Will still felt frozen slightly, but after he swallowed and took a sip of his coffee, he nodded. “It’s alright. Some fantasy love story about running off into the wilderness. Pretty cliché - but the characters are unfathomably irresponsible!”

Martyn tilted his head at Strife and laughed almost knowingly. He smiled. “How so?”

“Well, for starters they have responsibilities to uphold in their respective kingdoms, and second of all, I’m not even sure who the antagonist is here - the very basis of responsibility itself? Some sort of trauma subplot between the main characters and their families?” Strife dragged his nail across the remainder of the pages in the book, which was likely a little under a hundred. 

“And you’re still reading it?” Martyn laughed.

Strife’s brow creased as he met Martyn’s gaze. “Well, it’s a damn good thing to fantasize about, I guess. Running off into the woods and not dealing with stress anymore. It’s almost admirable; if it wasn’t so foolish.” 

The other man shifted his seating in the grass so he could get a better look at Will. Little wet grass prints remained on the parts of his jean shorts that were left exposed from the movement. He placed his chin in his hands and leaned forward so his elbows rested atop his knees. He narrowed his eyes and smirked, “Isn’t that what you two did, Strife?”

Strife was taken aback, he leaned away and closed his book with a dramatic stir of offense. “We took refuge here, we didn’t just run off from our problems.” He shook his book for emphasis, “I have a business to run. As much as I like it here, things need to get done eventually.”

“Surely you’re healed by now,” Martyn commented with a quick nod to Strife’s chest. “Nothing too bad for you. All’s well. So why haven’t you left yet?”

“What?”

“You said you had responsibilities. That you didn’t just run off into the woods with some fairytale lover in hopes of relaxation,” Martyn waved a finger and Strife blushed at the words. “So why haven’t you left to your company?” Will had no witty comebacks. He could have left by now, Martyn was right. He glanced down at his book with the silence of a child being taught a lesson. 

“You don’t...need to go back, Will. Me and Toby, well, we’re more than happy to have you. Nothing forces you to go back to work - if this is where you’re happy, then so be it.” He stood, lingering for a few moments so his words sunk in. “And if you’re worried, I’m sure he’d follow you to the ends of the Earth whatever you decide.”


	9. Chapter 9

They packed their bags, heading deeper into the forest to become new neighbors alongside Martyn and Toby. The weeks were long, but Parv and Strife eventually found themselves a small log cabin, just enough space for the two of them to share. The hermits visited regularly, passing time by the campfire and assisting in the littler ways. Perhaps it was nicer for the rest of the world to look upon Parv’s castle with grief; they could assume the two dead, rotting in the shell of a grave of reckless magic. Strife Solutions would be deemed abandoned, and maybe some other company would take over if Hat Films doesn’t somehow capitalize on his missing place. 

Being a gear to a well-oiled machine simply means one is incapable of leaving said device without the impossible avoidance of the whole machine coming undone. Every gear is important and every gear has a task. That was William Strife, a gear in his very own machine of life in which he would work relentlessly to escape the real issues of life. His entire shtick was to solve problems - Strife Solutions prided themselves on that. 

Alex Parvis was no gear. No machine housed him, no gearbox coddled him. No; instead, he was a key tossed into the machine guts that clogged the whole thing. And for once, the machine could breathe. There’s an irony in having a foreign metal object thrown into an important piece of technology that seemingly _helps_ it; however, when you work day in and day out, any way to stop is a miraculous blessing. 

It wasn’t easy having Parv around, but he helped Strife see the finer things - even if it was done in the intense explosion of magical insanity. Without Parv going mad, Strife wouldn’t have found comfort in the day to day life of forest dwellers. He wouldn’t have found a deeper bond between them that goes further than friendship and even further than love; one that unites on the basis of a shared destiny, a similar fate. It was inevitable what was happening to them regarding the crawling flux, but in a way it was poetic. That when the time came and they lost their minds, they would be magenta hand in magenta hand, fading away into a complete loss of identity. They would waste away together, falling into a purple oblivion of mindless radio chatter. 

The outside world now was simply disinteresting. The stress of worrying no longer found worth in Will’s mind. Rather, he focused on his mornings of quiet reading alongside his partner, soft yet unspoken promises between them. Resting in each others laps between much longer, well needed naps. All those small moments filled with sweetness and grace that a simple glance could express almost entirely. They were the light of long dead stars; fates already sealed. They would gather in the moss and watch the death of the sun; the death of all things seen and unseen.

But it was not as though this was the end; no, rather the start of the rest of their lives, entangled in the vines of their wasteland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy! This actually took me about 6-7 months to finish entirely. I'm glad to have it finished finally, I've really loved the idea of Strife and Parv moving off into the woods and being fluxed up together. Plus, I wanted to do a multi-chaptered fic for once instead of one-shots. I hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!! :]


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